Where the Gun is Pointed
by DjDangerLove
Summary: A man out to avenge his son's death knows exactly where it hurts the most. Neal Whump.
1. Chapter 1

It happened the moment the gun was against his forehead.

The barrel stocked full of the end of the world was cold against his damp, heated skin. He had always heard people say your life flashes before your eyes when it's about to leave you. His life had one foot out the door but wasn't offering him any flashbacks of any sort. There was nothing there that would have him down on his knees, hands bound behind his back, and begging for his life, but damn if he wasn't doing it.

The man and his gun was towering over him like the sight of the FBI building for the first time, taunting and unpredictable. His smoked stained and whiskey drenched breath escaped in an amused, deep chuckle.

"Are you beggin' me, boy?"

His heart, a treasure map for trouble, pounded its way painfully up into his throat, making him swallow. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight when the barrel was tapped against his forehead in two prompting nudges.

"Look at you, conman extraordinaire. Pfff." If the man's spit landed on him, the sweat dampening his skin made it impossible to notice. He flinched regardless at the tiny sound of disbelief, barely relishing in the cool steel being pulled apart from his forehead for the second that it was, before it once again ushered his life to the exit door. The man bent down, keeping the gun in its desired place. Neal clenched his jaw and forced himself to keep the man's gaze.

"Do you want to die?"

Neal stared at him, keeping up the foundations of the walls he spent years building.

"Ah, no response? Well, here's another question that you might be able to answer. You or her?" The gun was pulled away from his forehead, but unlike the previous second of freedom he relished before, he hated the release, because now the gun was pointed at Elizabeth Burke.

"Me! Me. You don't need to hurt her."

"Neal, don't-" Her voice sounded remarkably like Peter's, just not so deep.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye to cut her off, then looked back to the man and nodded, before leaning forward until his forehead was back against the barrel. The corner of the gunman's mouth, supporting the evidence of holding too many cigars there, lifted up.

"Atta boy."

Neal cringed, but did his best to hide it.

"You don't want to do that." Her voice was even, not supporting any evidence of panic even though she was down on her knees as well though her hands were bound in front of her. Neal leaned farther into the barrel as if it would keep the man from taking it away and putting it on her.

He chuckled, his breath once again churning Neal's stomach. "Want? Perhaps not. Now, need, on the other hand...well, yeah I need to kill him."

Neal felt a heat creep up his spine. Whether it was from situation he was currently in, or the image of the Elizabeth's stern look he knew all too well being directed at the man with the gun, he couldn't be sure.

"My husband won't let you get away with it." Neal opened his eyes, staring blankly at the blurry sight of the man's hand around the handle of the gun, and listened intently to her unwavering voice. "I won't, either."

"Darling, what exactly is it that you plan to do to save him? He's kneeling on less than a second between living and dying." The man turned his attention back to Neal and titled his head to the side in contemplation. "And from where I'm standing he's a little top-heavy on the dying side."

The gun was released from his forehead and shoved up under his chin, tilting his head back. Neal clenched his jaw tight, tasting the metallic flavor of blood dripping from the bite marks on the inside of his cheek. The man's grin widened and he met Neal's gaze.

"Do you fear me, kid?"

Neal didn't move, didn't blink. The gun was pushed farther into his throat almost making him gag, before it was cocked. His eyes moved off to the side because it was just too much, but the man nudged his chin again, forcing him to meet his stare.

"Ahh, there it is." The man kept his eyes on Neal's. "Tell me, Elizabeth, do you know what it feels like to hold someone's life in your hands? To see them look at you with nothing but fear in their eyes?"

Neal kept his gaze as harden as he could, his mask as tight as he could muster, but the gun was starting to loosen under his chin and he knew where it was to be pointed if it wasn't on him. Knowing Elizabeth wouldn't give into the man's twisted game, Neal answered for her.

"She's not a sick bastard like you."

Suddenly the gun was brought hard across his jaw, adding to the metallic flavor already in his mouth. He spit out a portion of it while listing to the side, before the man's hand brought him roughly back upright with the gun back under his chin. But this time, Neal grinned bloodily at the man's furious face.

"My apologies. Had I known you were going to hit like my ex-girlfriend, I would've said that sooner."

Elizabeth knew exactly what Neal was doing and it made her blood boil at his stubbornness. She watched the man's gun come up again to be brought back across Neal's face, before she chimed in, "Are you really going to let him get the best of you?"

The man stopped mid-stride and turned his head to look at her. His head cocked to the side, studying her face. Neal was watching her too out of the corner of his eye and when the ghost of relief crossed her face at the sight of the man dropping his hand completely as if he wasn't going to hit him again, Neal prayed the man hadn't caught it. But suddenly the gun was across his jaw in almost the same place and he was back to spitting blood until the man straightened him once more.

The man chuckled. "And to think you're married to an FBI Agent. I expected a better performance from you, sweetheart." He shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back to Neal. "But I suppose I should give you credit for trying. It's not like you were aware of the fact that I know all about your little makeshift family."

"You know nothing." She spat and it made Neal's stomach churn even more.

"Well, why don't you help me figure it out?" The man stood up, gun still aimed at Neal, while walking behind him. Elizabeth was watching him, but her attention was on Neal. She could see his head shake a fraction of an inch, his mouth forming the word 'don't', while the man pulled him to his feet by the back of his shirt.

The gunman shoved Neal in front of Elizabeth and forced him down on his knees again. He squatted down behind him and caught the woman's gaze. Snaking his arm that held the gun around Neal's neck, he pulled out a knife from his waistband and held it a few inches out from Neal's chest.

"Let's see what this tells me."

Neal suddenly felt a burning sensation slice across his left side at the top of his ribcage as the knife slid across his skin. He did his best not to show the pain he felt and focused on the warm liquid running down his side. He took deep breaths through his nose and tried to grin at Elizabeth as if it were nothing.

"Stop." Elizabeth's voice was a ghost of a whisper.

The man leaned Neal and himself closer, causing more blood to gush from the wound.

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that." The knife was once again slid across his ribcage just below the first cut. Neal gritted his teeth, letting the groan roll out of his nose in a long exhale.

"Stop." Her voice was stronger now, tears lining the bottom of her eyelids.

"Now we're getting somewhere!" He slid the knife once more, making a third cut under the first two, before letting Neal pitch forward and breath through the pain. The man twirled the knife in his hand a moment before pulling Neal back to him. He looked up at Elizabeth and smiled. "And you said I didn't know anything. Tsk. Tsk. Mrs. Burke, please don't insult my intelligence again."

Neal laughed despite of it all and it caused the man to pull him tighter against him, the knife now against his back. "Don't make me do something to make our pretty little lady cry, Neal. You and I both don't want that."

Neal could feel the blood on the knife drip onto his wrists and could feel his zip tie bindings start to slip against his skin. It was a small miracle, but it wasn't enough. If he was going to be able to slip them he was going to need more.

"Like you have it in you." Neal spat back, ignoring the incredulous look El was giving him. He felt the knife against his arm cut deep, deeper than he prepared for and he did his best to hide the scream between clenched teeth.

The man stood up, wiping the knife on a rag from his pocket, before placing it back in his waistband. He walked around Neal's hunched over form, placing the gun underneath his chin once more to make him straighten back up. He looked over at Elizabeth, who was watching Neal.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth. Peter will be here soon and you're family will be put back together and live happily ever after." His chuckle was deep and menacing and suddenly Elizabeth felt dizzy as if she was the one losing blood.

She tore her gaze from Neal and glared at the man standing above her. "You're damn right."

Had Neal been paying attention to anything but slipping his hands out of his bindings, he would have been thoroughly impressed with Elizabeth's determination, but the skin on his knuckles was peeling back as he pulled and he was focusing on not showing it on his face.

"I like you, Mrs. Burke. Hell, I even like the kid. But you're husband...well, let me put it this way... if someone killed Mr. Caffrey here, wouldn't you make sure they paid for it?" He paused for a moment as if Elizabeth would answer, but she said nothing. "Yeah, I know you would, because that's how I feel about the man that killed my son."

Neal's hand slipped free from the bind and it took everything he had to keep it behind his back. He glanced between the gunman and Elizabeth and knew things were going to take a turn for the worse.

"Peter didn't kill your son. Your son made some bad choices. Followed in his father's footsteps, and got himself in trouble. Your son did it for you. If anyone killed him...it was you."

It all happened in slow motion, the man brought the gun up to her face, pulling his thumb back to cock it and she could only watch as his trigger finger began to squeeze. She closed her eyes, thinking of Peter one last time before the gun went off.

But she felt nothing. Suddenly, her eyes sprang open and she saw Neal struggling with the gunman. She was frozen stiff, unable to move as she watched the man suddenly grab Neal around the neck once more, moving his other hand to place the gun against his head, but Neal quit trying to loosen the grip around his neck and reached for the man's gun hand and brought it down.

Wild, blue eyes met hers and she immediately started to get to her feet , but then the younger man was shaking his head and she could only start to form the protest on her tongue before Neal said, "I'm sorry," placed the gun up against the right side of his chest and pulled the trigger.

Finally, the protest left her mouth a little too late in a terrified scream as she watched both of them crumple to the floor, the gunman on his back and Neal on his side. She reached Neal first, but noticed the gunman trying to pull himself over to the discarded gun. She raced over and picked it up with her bound hands, pointing it down at the gunman who stilled.

"Give me another reason to shoot you."

He smiled, despite the crimson stain spreading across his chest. "Go ahead." He motioned towards Neal's still form and said, "It's done." He paused as his breath caught in his throat then laughed. "Oh, and Mrs. Burke? If anyone killed your _son._..it was you. He did it for you."

Elizabeth stared down at him, her hands shaking as she placed her thumb on the hammer of the gun and pulled it back. A few seconds passed and the man smiled at her tauntingly. She swallowed thickly before letting the gun drop to her side, pushing the hammer back up and running to Neal's side.

* * *

**AN: Part 2 (Last chapter) coming this week. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Two reasons for the delay: 1) My major is film production and over spring break I was working on a short film in 12 to 14 hour shifts so I didn't have time to write. 2) I was overwhelmed by the response this little story received! I'm so happy that you all enjoyed it, but I became intimidated and started to doubt whether I could satisfy all of you, which broke my number one rule of writing: Write for yourself, no one else. If other people enjoy it, it's a plus. **

**That being said, I'm not sure how I feel about this short chapter, but as I was writing it I was getting bored with all the traditional medical/hospital scene hoopla that usually appears so I decided to go a different route...I hope that's okay and that you still enjoy it! **

* * *

She was there, silently begging him to do something, anything. He wanted to run to her, protect her from the world he didn't mean to bring down on her.

But isn't that just it? He's trapped in a world people seem to think he has the choice of leaving, when in reality he can only stand on the boundary between his world and everyone else's and he knows if he stands there long enough, he'll get lonely, get greedy, and he'll con someone into thinking the boundary is a few feet back from where it's supposed to be.

He felt the blood oozing down his arms, the skin peeling back on his knuckles, before his hands were free, the only thing in his life that ever was. She took her eyes off the gunman and captured his blue ones in a way no one else ever could and began saying something he couldn't quite hear. He held his breath and willed her voice to reach his ears. It was shrill at first, horrifyingly so, before the cocking of a gun cut between the noise and her voice became clear.

"Save her, Neal! Save her!"

Since the day she died, Neal had told himself that given the chance, he would never let Kate down again. So when her blurry figure disappeared from behind Elizabeth kneeling on the ground with a gun in her face, Neal got up to keep his promise.

Neal was punching blind, trying to keep Elizabeth on her side of the boundary, trying to keep the dangers in his, but suddenly there was an arm around his neck and a gun at his temple and he knew there were only two ways it could end and he would be damned if it wasn't the second.

However, as his hands coiled around the man's hand and his weapon, Ellen appeared beside Elizabeth with a shaking head. "Don't, Neal." He stared at her for a fraction of a second before the smell of whiskey was under his nose and a whisper was in his ear, "I'm gonna make her bleed, boy."

Neal had always had a bit of a rebellious streak in him, but what he was about to do wasn't to out right disobey the only mother he ever really knew, it was to save the one who had taught him what it meant to have one in the first place. He looked back at Ellen, her face in a perfect expression of knowing what he was going to do even before he did and her head shaking from side to side. He tightened his hands around the weapon, let "I'm sorry" brush through his lips like dust being blown from an old book and pulled the trigger.

* * *

She paid no mind to the warmth deriving from the pool of crimson under her knees, instead focused on the cold skin beneath her fingers as they held Neal's mask-less face. Blue irises were bursting between the half-mast eyelids they hid behind as if trying not to let their secrets spill out in fear.

"Neal, stay with me, okay?" Her hands were shaking over the paling skin of his face and the side of his convulsing neck, before she placed them down on the gunshot wound in his chest. His breath hitched, and his irises pried through his heavy eyelids for a fraction of a gut-wrenching second, before hiding once more and dimming.

"Neal?" He was staring off into space, seeing something that Elizabeth begged he wouldn't choose to follow. "Hey, hey, hey, come on, now. Right here, Neal. I'm right here." One of her blood slicked hands found the side of his cold face and brought eyes dimming like a flickering flame to her burning bright ones. He smiled at her, though not strong enough to even produce lines in his skin. Her lips wobbled as they tried to return the gesture, before she began stroking the side of his temple and the first few curls of his unruly hair. She leaned forward slightly, tears sliding down her face and whispered, "Right here, sweetheart. Right here."

* * *

Peter and Elizabeth sat side by side, completely silent, completely still.

"He apologized."

It was the first thing she had said since they had left the warehouse where she and Neal had been taken and it caught Peter completely off guard. "El?"

She was staring at the ground, but turning her head partially to the side to show she was talking to him. Her mouth wobbled showing her inner debate, before she bit them in punishment for it and swallowed thickly. "He...said he was sorry."

"Who? The man who took you?" Peter asked.

Elizabeth was still for a moment, then her head slowly began moving side to side. "Neal."

Peter stilled, unable to wrap his head around it all, but felt his wife shiver underneath his arm and hugged her close. "Honey, you don't have to-"

"I...I just don't...I want to know...what he meant."

Peter closed his eyes, pressing his lips to her temple before resting his head against hers. "Well...you can ask him when he wakes up."

Elizabeth buried her face in his chest and could hear the thumping of his heart. It was the sound of her husband and it made her feel secure, but when she caught a glimpse of Neal's anklet held tightly in Peter hand, she realized that it wasn't just the sound of Peter that she heard, it was the sound of Neal, too. So she sat there in the waiting room of the critical care unit of the hospital, praying that it wouldn't be the only place that she could find their boy.

* * *

Peter sat on the edge of a chair beside a hospital bed, elbows on his knees, clasped hands at his mouth, as he stared at the patient in the bed. He would close his eyes briefly every now and then, and open them back up with more effort than the last. He would jog his leg up and down for a few seconds before stopping and rubbing his thighs. But never once, did his attention leave the patient.

Neal saw all of it from where he stood on the opposite side of the bed. He furrowed his brow at Peter's distress and slowly turned his head, pausing to let his eyes catch up, and looked at the patient, but the man lying in the bed was blurry. Everything else was in crystal clear perfection, the medical machines, the IVs and wires, the tube snaking down the patient's throat, the bedsheets covering half his body and even Peter.

He turned his attention back to the agent. "Peter?" His voice sounded odd in the complete dead silence of the room. He couldn't even hear the machines beep.

"You're a selfish son of a bitch, you know that?" Neal flinched at the voice coming from behind him and turned around. He froze as he came face to face with himself, only that version of himself had a hole in his chest and was covered in blood.

"P..Peter?" He tried again, unable to take his eyes off himself.

"Look what you did! And for what? Elizabeth? Peter? No! You did it for you!" His bloodied self took a step forward, their noses almost touching. "Look what you've done."

"Peter!" Neal yelled again, this time turning around to look at the agent who sat completely unaware of his presence. He turned back afraid of what he'd find, but was met with just the sight of the hospital room.

He walked around to where Peter sat and stood next to him. He reached out to shake him, but stopped halfway when he saw the glare of the overhead light caught in the water lining the older man's eyes.

"Peter."

Suddenly, the agent stood up, wiping a hand down his face before leaning over the bed. He grabbed the patient's hand and finally spoke.

"You once told me that family are the ones that are there when you need them. If you really believe that...don't leave. Okay, Neal?"

Neal tilted his head to the side and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not-" he started to say, until Peter let go of the man's hand and backed away from the bed. For the first time Neal could see the patient and as the man's face became clear, Neal, once again, was staring at himself.

He stood frozen, staring at his prone figure, in fear. He didn't know what was happening, where he was. Nothing. The sound of the door opening had him turning around. Peter had stopped in the doorway, looking back at the hospital bed. He knew the agent couldn't hear him, but it didn't stop him from saying, "I don't want to leave, Peter, but I don't know how to stay."

* * *

**AN: I know some of you wanted to see Peter coming to the rescue, but I promise it's coming in later chapters if you decide to stick around. Thanks for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts. **


	3. Chapter 3

**I think it's been so long since I've updated that apologizing would seem even more disrespectful. Regardless, for anyone still interested in this story, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, it's more of a filler so I can get back in the groove with this story, but hopefully it's alright. **

* * *

Peter regretted his decision the minute he stepped inside the gate. Gray headstones popped out from the ground with their deteriorating faces imitating the body they marked and the agent felt his breath rush out of his chest. He wanted to reach out and steady himself but settled for placing his hands on his knees as he took in slow gulps of air, so he wouldn't have to touch such cold, lifeless stone.

The rustle of the paper around the small bouquet of flowers was loud in the silence of the cemetery as it crinkled between his sweat-slicked palms and his weakening knees. Two small birds were startled from a nearby tree, catching Peter's gaze. As he watched them flee, he noticed the headstone just underneath the lowest hanging branch and straightened himself up with a deep breath before making his way over.

He squatted down, once he reached the grave, with his legs spread to the side and arms laying casually on his thighs with limp hands dangling as if he were examining evidence at a crime scene. The thought struck him, forcing him to shift his position to be more respectful. He huffed out a laugh, looking down at his hands with embarrassment, before slowly laying the flowers horizontally across the headstone just under the engraved date.

He let his eyes scan the rest of the engraved headstone, before bringing his hand up to wipe his face as another sigh escaped him. He rubbed at his mouth as he contemplated what to say. Rubbing his hands together and bouncing on the balls of his feet a few times, he finally spoke.

"I don't really know why I'm here," he laughed shyly, before glancing back up at the name on the grave that read, _Ellen Danielle Parker. _His smile dropped and he set his jaw for a brief moment. "I guess it's because I let you down. You told me to protect him, and I..." he trailed off as emotion twisted in his throat and he went back to bouncing on his feet and examining his fingers.

He looked back up after a moment, finally finding a passage in his throat. "What do I do Ellen? What am I supposed to do?" He shook his head, fisting his hands. "There's a chance he won't..." he swallowed the words before he could voice them. "God, how did you do it? How did you protect him all those years? I'm sure he wasn't hanging around people with guns, but knowing Neal I wouldn't put it past him. Regardless he made it to his eighteenth birthday with you looking out for him. I've only been trying for four years and he's already fighting for his life. So what am I supposed to do?"

He paused in anguished thought, ridiculously waiting for her reply. When he received none, he turned his gaze, looking out amongst the other headstones. It was then he heard a quiet chirping noise coming from above him. Standing with popping knees, he walked the three steps it took to get to the lowest branch of the tree standing tall beside Ellen's grave. He stepped on an overgrowing root snaking out of the ground and peered over the extended limb to see a small bird's nest, with a quietly, yet hungrily chirping baby bird sitting in the middle.

A soft smirk played at the corner of his lip. "Hey, little guy," he drug out, slowly extending a hand towards the bird, "I guess I startled your parents when I walked up. Sorry about- Woah!", he exclaimed and withdrew his hand quickly as a fully grown bird swooped in and landed in the nest. Peter stumbled back off the root, hand to his chest, with a startled laugh.

"Easy, fella."

The bird perched on the side of the nest and squawked in Peter's direction. Peter laughed, and watched a second bird swoop in, worm hanging from his beak. "Protective bunch, aren't ya?" Surprised that the wild birds came back even in such close quarters with a human. "I guess that's what family does." The second bird dropped the worm for the baby and both chirped happily. "Yeah," he nodded.

Peter smiled and turned back to Ellen's grave. He kneeled again, glancing back up at the bird's nest once more, then to Ellen. "You know, I prefer my miracles with a little more smiting and lighting, but someone once told me sometimes you have to take a leap of faith, so I'm going to take one and assume that little bird show was you trying to tell me something."

He finally placed his hand on the headstone and smiled a small smile. "Thank you...for everything," he said softly, silently thanking her for protecting Neal all the years before. "We'll take care of him, Ellen. I know we aren't perfect, but we are his family."

Peter rose, giving one last glance at Ellen's grave, before turning to leave, and as he walked away he heard the bird's singing a nice little melody.

* * *

The hallway was dark, only lit by the overhead lights supplied by generator power. Their dull hum was almost deafening to his ears as Neal cautiously walked the length of the hospital wing. Their wasn't a soul in sight and every doorway he looked in was empty. He sped up his footsteps, though not so much as to run, but walk briskly.

"Hello?" His voiced echoed harshly in the corridor. He felt his breath catch in his throat. "Peter?"

"Neal." His name was spoken from one of the rooms further down the hall. Picking up speed into a jog, he quickly searched each room until he came to the third one from the end and saw a man hunched over on the end of the bed, with dirty gray, short cut hair. Holding on to the doorway as he caught his breath, he prodded, "Excuse me."

The man's head suddenly turned towards him, sallow and weary, with an infuriated expression and quickly stood, displaying a gunshot wound to his chest and blood staining his gray suit.

Neal gasped and jerked back away from the doorframe, as none other than Senator Pratt stood before him. "S-senator...Pratt?"

"I gotta say, I was hoping to meet with the other Caffrey but I guess I'll have to settle for you. Looks like Daddy dearest, wasn't as noble as you'd wanted. Hurts doesn't it?" He seethed, patting a hand against the hole in his chest and stepping forward, causing Neal to take a step back.

"N-no. No. You're...", Neal struggled to get his breath as he backed into the wall of the corridor.

"Dead? So are you." Pratt grinned, sending a shiver down Neal's spine before he pushed away from the wall and ran back down the corridor.

* * *

Peter walked into Neal's hospital room, shutting the door behind him while glancing at the clock on the wall. _8:04. _He turned his attention to his charge in the bed. "Another long night of watching you sleep? I hope not," he sighed as he eased down in his usual chair beside the bed. He pulled out his _Sports Illustrated, _preparing to keep his mind occupied for the next short while, before patting Neal's arm just as much for the younger man's benefit as his own. He felt the cool skin beneath his hand and noticed chill bumps on Neal's arm.

"Huh. A bit cold, Bud?" He stood and exited the room, making his way to the nurses station to ask for an extra blanket. He received one and went back to Neal's room, and covered him with the extra layer, before sitting down and opening up his magazine.

* * *

Neal ran down the hallway, frequently glancing over his shoulder to make sure Pratt wasn't following him. Convinced he wasn't, he slowed down enough to catch sight of someone standing in another room. He wouldn't have stopped if not for the long raven hair and piercing eyes that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Kate." The name ghosted across his tongue with the same passion he'd always had for her and he stepped forward ready to sweep her off her feet like he'd always dreamed of doing, but never believing he was perfect enough to do so.

She met him at the doorway, as if she were ready to embrace him but at the last second she stopped him with an outstretched hand. "No, Neal. You can't."

There it was. His worst imperfection across her perfect lips. "Kate...I'm sor-"

"Neal," she smiled, with a spark in her eyes that nearly drove him to his knees. She lifted her hand as if to cup his face, but rested it on the doorframe instead with a sad smile. "You have to save them."

He moved forward, but she shifted with a pained look on her face. He guiltily stepped back. "Save who?"

Her face twisted in torment and she took another step back before looking at him with desperate eyes. "Go, Neal. Save them. Just go, please."

"Kate, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I-" He pleaded with her retreating form.

"Please, Neal. I'm...ahh, I'm asking you to go before-," She grounded out through clenched teeth. Neal was about to ask, but suddenly he didn't need to as Kate burst into flames, and like the day she died, he screamed until his throat was raw.

* * *

Peter was on the twenty-third page of his magazine, when the quiet room tone was suddenly disrupted by terrified moaning. The agent jumped, hand going to his empty holster for a split second while he searched for the source. Instantly looking at Neal, he noticed the younger man wriggling and moaning between clenched teeth. He stood, pressed the nurse call button, and grabbed Neal's hand with one of his own while placing the other on his uninjured shoulder.

"Neal. Hey, come on," Peter tried to encourage and sooth, but to no avail, as the nurse came running in. Then, Neal said one word that the agent would never forget.

* * *

"Peter!" Neal shouted as he ran away from the inferno, down the hospital wing. He felt a pain in his shoulder and stumbled slightly, until a slight pressure on his other steadied him. He straightened back up to keep running, but stopped short with a gasp as Ellen appeared in front of him holding a small baby bird in her hands. She smiled up at him while running a thumb over the bird's back.

"Neal, honey. It's alright."

"E-ellen, please...help me." He pleaded, feeling the burning in his shoulder intensify.

She titled her head to the side, her smile deepening with empathy. "It's not me anymore, sweetie. But you'll be fine. Just like him." She spread her hands and the baby bird fluttered out of her palms and flew directly towards Neal. With one last cry, he squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them he was staring up at Peter.

* * *

"Neal. Neal, hey, look at me. Look at me. It's alright." Peter tried to calm his charge, as groggy blue eyes floated around the room in a frenzy. Peter glanced up at the nurse on the other side of the bed who was getting ready to increase Neal's pain medication. She smiled a tired smile, "I'm going to give you some more medicine, Mr. Caffrey."

Peter turned his attention back to the younger man to catch Neal staring at him. "It's alright, Bud. You're going to be fine."

He watched Neal blink sluggishly at his words and doubted the conman even understood, but slowly a grin twisted at the corners of the injured man's mouth and he slurred a whispered, "Ellen said that, too. Then threw a bird at me," before he succumbed back to unconsciousness.

A smile split Peter's face as he ran a hand through Neal's hair and let a deep chuckle escape him. "Yeah, that's sounds like Ellen."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**


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